The True Definition of Mudblood
by SaidbhinLuch
Summary: A few days after escaping the Malfoy Manor, Hermione finds herself having a rather enlightening conversation with Dean Thomas. What she misses about her old life, what being a Mudblood means to her, and what is waiting for her. Ron/Hermione hinted at.


**Set a few days after the trio and the others escape the Manor and are hiding out at Shell Cottage. Note I am using the 'Mudblood' scar from the movie, I love that little addage.**

* * *

Hermione glanced round her before ducking out the door and she meandered down to the beach, glad for a moment just to be alone. Five days since they'd managed to escape the Manor, and she had not been given a moment to just be by herself. Harry and Ron, though perfectly well meaning, were driving her insane.

She stopped, toed of her shoes and socks, walked out onto the sand, stretching her toes and breathing deeply. Hermione glanced around pushing some of her hair back, glaring at the bandage on her forearm, and just stared out at the sea. Though cold and dreary, she relished in just taking a moment to relax. The wind was biting and she could feel drops of water hit her but she simply pulled her jumper, one she pilfered from Ron, in tighter around her, pulling the sleeves down.

Hermione pulled the hood up and huddled back into it, taking in the warm scent issuing from the slightly worn fabric. The familiar smell coupled with the sights around her, reminded her of her family and she struggled not to start sniffling. Memories of her younger self playing on the beach with her Dad chasing her and her Mum laughing happily from the blanket she'd set up. Hermione sighed, wrapping her hands up in the extra long sleeves.

'Hey Hermione.' She nearly screeched spinning around and reaching for her wand and saw Dean Thomas standing slightly behind her.

'_Jesus_ Dean! Don't _do_ that!' She tucked her wand back into her jeans, and watched as Dean actually looked amused and Hermione blinked in confusion.

'It's been forever since I heard a muggle curse.' She frowned and then thought about it, Harry never used them, picking up on Ron's vocabulary years ago and she herself rarely cursed.

'Yeah same. I never even thought about that.'

'It's weird the things you miss isn't it?' Hermione nodded slowly before facing the ocean and sinking down onto the sand and leaning back. Dean sat down next to her, resting back his forearms.

'I miss watching the football with my Dad and babysitting my sisters. And they usually drove me mad.'

'I miss sitting with my Dad, having a cup of tea and just reading.' Dean chuckled lightly and she rolled her eyes.

'Yes, my favourite thing to do with my Dad was read, sue me.' He nodded and stared up at the grey clouds, arching an eyebrow.

'Favourite author?'

'With Dad? Sir Arthur Conon Doyle.' He turned and looked at her, both slightly bemused and amused.

'Did your parents ever wonder about the situations you and the others got into? I think your Dad inadvertently set you up.' Hermione started giggling and then full on laughter, and the pair sat on the beach just about crying with laughter.

'Well at least I have an explanation for Professor McGonagall next time I see her.' She sniffed, wiping her eyes and still chuckling.

Hermione flipped some of her hair back and rolled up the sleeve on her right arm and glared down at the stark white bandage. She could feel Dean's eyes flicker from the bandage to her face and back again.

'Do you have a knife on you by any chance?' He reached down to his boot and pulled out a silver blade and handed to her, watching her curiously. She turned the knife towards her and cut downwards, ripping the cloth away from her arm. She glared down at the letters etched into her skin.

'Does it hurt?' Dean asked, and Hermione looked at him curiously, as she traced the lettering on her arm idly.

'Not anymore.'

'No not that, what it means.'

'It used to, when I first when to Hogwarts, I thought _this is where I belong_. I'd be with people who'd finally get me, understand me, I wouldn't be alone anymore. But at first...' Hermione sat up, hood slipping off her head, and wrapping her arms around her knees.

'You were intimidating for eleven year olds to deal with.' She looked round, chin still balanced on her knee to see him shrugging, slightly apologetically with very wide eyes.

'Well okay, I can see that, then well things sort of fell into place for a while. I didn't really get that some considered me to be unworthy I just thought Malfoy and that lot were prats. Then it got worse.'

It was evident that she did not need to expand on that as Dean's face contorted deep in thought. Hermione inspected her arm, before smiling down at the words.

'It's weird, I almost feel like I should thank her for this.' His head whipped round and he just managed to splutter at her.

'Before this, I hated this word, another way for people to belittle me, shut me down and try to beat me. Now I see in on my arm, trying to make me less then what I am and you know what? This is a part of what makes me, me. I am a mudblood, a damned fine one, I was born as one, I will die as one and I will always be proud of that. They will never take that from me.'

'Crikey, and I thought Harry was bad for the speeches.' She just rolled her eyes again, before summoning her shoes and fiddling with her socks.

'I wonder about my Dad. Who he was, and why he felt the need to hide, if he was a wizard that is.' He got up and stretched, stepping towards the waves and kicking a stone away.

'Well if he was a wizard, maybe he hid it to protect you and your Mum. It was the first war after all... He may have felt that it was the only way.' She reasoned, looking back out at the ocean again.

'Maybe he did. I just wish I could know.' Hermione smiled sadly, knowing he couldn't see her face.

'But you know what Granger.' He turned smirking down at her and she twitched an eyebrow in response.

'What _Thomas_?'

'I am going to do some god damn living after this war. So should you, you have quite a bit to live for.' At this he nodded at something behind her and she turned to see Ron ambling down towards them. Dean grinned mischievously down at her and she decided to aim a grin of her own back at him. The look of surprise that spread across his face was soon replaced with good humour.

'You've been a great influence on her mate.' Dean nodded at Ron, who held a hand out to her, but she waved him off pulling on her shoes and socks.

'Odd, most say the exact opposite.' Ron countered, waiting patiently for Hermione to finish sorting herself out on the sand. Dean laughed and tucked his knife back into his boot, pulling his jeans around to hide it and heading down the beach. She took the offered hand and as she dusted herself off, Hermione turned and called down to Dean.

'Any particular life you're aiming towards Thomas?' Ron looked down at her in confusions and she saw Dean start in surprise and look back at the pair.

'Oh _lots _of it Granger! _Lots_.' Hermione giggled loudly as Dean turned away from them, Ron was looking from one to the other and looking flabbergasted.

'I've missed something haven't I?' She pulled the hood back up on her head, tucking as much of her hair as she could manage back in.

'You usually do. It's no matter, life will happen.' He grabbed her hand and they headed back up to the cottage, Ron clearly having decided to drop the topic. As they reached the pathway, she looked back and smiled at the darkened seascape.


End file.
